On the Philosopher's Mean

I commend you and rejoice in the fact that you are persistent in your studies, and that, putting all else aside, you make it each day your endeavour to become a better man. I do not merely exhort you to keep at it; I actually beg you to do so.

I warn you, however, not to act after the fashion of those who desire to be conspicuous rather than to improve, and to make your philosophy remarkable by what you wear or how you look.

Avoid rough clothing, long hair, a slovenly beard, open scorn of silver dishes, sleeping on the ground, and whatever else of this kind seeks praise through perversity. The very name 'philosophy' is disliked enough as it is, even when practised with modesty.

What would happen if we began to separate ourselves from the customs of our fellow-men? Inwardly, we ought to be different in all respects, but our exterior should conform to society.

Let our clothes not be gaudy, yet not dirty either. Let us avoid silver vessels with gold inlay, but let us not imagine that to do without gold and silver is proof of a simple life.

Let our aim be a life that is neither like theirs nor contrary to theirs. The goal of our ideal wise man is to be admired for his character rather than his clothes.

Let us try to maintain a higher standard of life than that of the multitude, but not a contrary standard; otherwise, we shall frighten away and repel the very persons whom we are trying to improve.

We also bring it about that they are unwilling to imitate us in anything, because they are afraid lest they might be compelled to imitate us in everything. Philosophy requires frugality, not punishment; and the frugal life need not be uncouth.

This is the mean of which I approve: our life should observe a happy medium between good morals and the morals of the world; all men should admire it, but they should also understand it.

Farewell.